


Promises

by Illegible_Scribble



Series: 31 Days of Frodo/Sam, 2018 [29]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Quest, Smoochtober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 21:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: In which Sam's vow to follow Frodo in his flight from the Shire solidifies into an oath they both share, and a deeper bond neither of them quite expected.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/132744) for Smoochtober 2018, #29: Sealed with a Kiss.

It was a rude question to ask, Sam knew – or anyway, not one a gardener really ought to be asking his master. He felt anxious and guilty even taking the breath to ask, but his curiosity and the feelings he'd been hiding for months stole his voice and played it for their own purpose. “Mister Frodo, Sir?” he asked, wrapping up his tending of the flower box outside Frodo's study window. “I've a question for you, if you don't mind my asking.”

Frodo, who was sitting just inside at his desk, looked up from the papers he was observing, and offered Sam a pleasant smile. “Of course; anything you like.”

_He probably thinks it'll be sommat small,_ Sam felt sweat breaking out across his back from more than the sun beating down on him, _like “What's the Elvish word for 'beauty',” or, “Is there anything you're needing from town, Sir?”_ The question bubbling to Sam's lips was, of course, not small, and as established previously, improper. However, he tried to rationalize, it wasn't terribly _strange_ to ask; after all, Frodo was nearing fifty, and though Sam had heard his parents were late bloomers in that way, one best be getting on with things if they were going to...

That aside, if worst came to worst, he could always blame a made-up tidbit of gossip he'd overheard from his sisters, or somesuch. “W-well, t'is a silly thing,” as Sam ducked his head, Frodo treated him to a comforting smile, reassuring him _nothing_ he asked could be silly, “but- I couldn't help but wondering recently, Sir- um-” _Now you're in for it, Sam Gamgee,_ “is there a reason you don't go courting?”

As Sam had expected it would, the smile and comfort melted from Frodo's face as an early frost does once the sun has come up. He swallowed, setting aside his quill, and Sam would've been glad for the ground beneath him to split open and eat up his silly self whole. “I wouldn't call that... silly,” Frodo replied at length, lacing his fingers and looking somewhere off to one side, “personal, you might better call it.” Sam went red to the ears, but Frodo continued before he had the chance to offer an apology. “But fair, in the end.

“I suppose...” he looked down to something beside his desk, before leaning over and procuring an aged parchment which he set forth for Sam to see.

Sam saw immediately it was an old portrait of someone done in ink, but it took him a moment to place the face. “I'm almost as old as Bilbo when Gandalf came knocking with Thorin's Company, you know,” there seemed both a dreamy and wistful lilt to Frodo's voice, “and I think part of the reason Gandalf chose him, is because at that point he wasn't married, nor courting.

“He wasn't tied down, and had no attachments. He was free to... go off on an adventure, whenever, without needing to ask nor worry about anyone.” It seemed the longer Frodo spent looking at the portrait, the sadder his own face became. “I suppose I'm following suit; I'd like an adventure of my own still, someday, and untangling myself from someone else to do it would be too much heartache for us both.”

Sam supposed Frodo's gaze was then looking through him to the middle-distance, and not at him, as it otherwise appeared to be. “I-I see, Sir.”

Sam felt so strongly about his belief, he thought nothing of how Frodo's eyes lingered at the top of his shirt, where the buttons were undone, leaving a patch of his chest revealed, shining with sweat. “It's not that I don't fancy people, of course,” Frodo added after a time, “only... now isn't the time I'd wish to settle, you see. Perhaps someday, but not right now.”

Sam couldn't quite explain why his mouth and throat were so dry. “Aye, I understand you, Sir. Thank'ee for entertaining me question. Just curious, you know; you- you are an awful fine hobbit, and methinks would be fine company for anyone, if I may say,” _Now you've done and put your foot in it,_ Sam thought as he hurriedly bent down to collect his tools.

He was surprised to hear a soft laugh greet his ears as he stood up again, and to see Frodo smiling. “Thank you, Sam. I'm glad you think so.”

Any gravity to be found in this remark was negated by Sam's befuddlement. “You're quite welcome, Sir.” he was hastening to get away, now, as he'd left Frodo in a pleasant mood and had his question answered, but another one came spilling from his mouth before he could hold it back. “And- after, have you thought of little'uns, Sir?”

Sam chastised himself worse than his Gaffer ever had to look at the sudden solemnity on Frodo's face, all trace of cheer thoroughly washed away. “No,” it took several moments for him to reply, clearly considering the question in a way he hadn't in a long while, as he leaned back in his chair, “I haven't.” Sam nodded fervently, wanting very much to quickly vanish, but was held rooted to the spot as Frodo spoke again, his voice changing to something more... hopeful? “But it would be nice, I think,” there was still a wistful look in his eyes as he studied Sam, “for Bag End to have little feet running about it again.”

The color of Sam's cheeks was still a stark red, but he found the courage to look Frodo near enough in the eye again. “Aye, Sir. That would be fine.”

After Sam had left Frodo's window, he found his thoughts were hopelessly full of images of little faunts with his own pale hair, and Frodo's star-filled azure eyes.

 

–

 

The following day, though Sam was still fairly certain his cheek was going to get him into trouble like as not, he made another query as he finished at the study window's flower box. “Sir, about your adventure you mentioned,” Frodo perked up at this, setting down the paper he'd been examining with a magnifying glass, so he could give Sam the whole of his attention, “ehm, is it Elves you're planning to see?”

Any wintery chill that might have clung to Frodo's face thawed, and his smile was one of amused endearment. “I don't know all together, but I would like to go to Rivendell someday, yes.”

Though he'd had the pluck to go running his mouth with such disrespect the day before, Sam found asking a more courtly question still difficult, for its subject. “If you do, then- w-well, I'd- I'd be happy to carry things for you on the way, you know, if you'd be needing any doing of that sort,” Seeing Elves in person was Sam's second most-wanted dream of all the world; wanted so badly to be made real, he would indeed ask his master an imposing question if he could tag along to see them.

Frodo chuckled, and his laughter sounded like soft, clear bells chiming. “You'd be carrying little more than your own things, I think, Sam. If I were to bring you along, I wouldn't have you carrying my things; we'd be in it together, like Thorin's Company, you know. Companions. And bring you along I would, if you still wanted to come, and your family weren't utterly discontent with it.”

Sam nearly dropped the shears he'd been holding. “Oh, Sir! Thank'ee- that- that would be a right dream, that would! If- if you go picking a day, say the word and the last thing I'll be is late.”

There was something shining in Frodo's eyes – a delight Sam wasn't sure he'd ever seen in them before – that somehow made them, and Frodo's whole face, more beautiful than anything. Sam felt his heart fluttering shyly. “Consider it a deal, then, Master Samwise. I vow I shan't leave you behind.”

 

–

 

“You was thinking to, before Gandalf said as otherwise, weren't you?” Sam asked quietly into the gloom of the parlor, as they sat together, Gandalf having since gone to bed. “To leave me behind?”

Frodo looked down at the chilly teacup and saucer he had still in his lap. “I hadn't thought so far ahead when Gandalf pulled you in, really,” he said, finally setting the saucer on the table, “but I did get the feeling it would be dangerous to ask the company of any of my friends.” Even in relative dark he could feel Sam's eyes on him, searching for the truth he was dancing around. “I certainly don't _want_ to go alone, and I highly value Gandalf's council _not_ to.

“Yet, as this is a matter of the Dark Lord... I fear for the safety of those I-” he nearly said 'love', “-care very much for. The only thing known to us is the journey – wherever it will be to – will be dangerous, and fraught with those that would do the bearer of the Ring harm. I couldn't see you hurt.” _I adore you so dearly,_ Frodo did not say aloud, _it would cut my heart deeper than leaving the Shire does, if harm befell you._

“Have you been thinking others might feel the same about you?” Sam asked with surprising pluck. “If- if I may say,” his voice fell to a meeker note, “it's all well and noble for you to go off alone to save others from getting hurt. But then, if you went and got hurt without no one to help you get on, why, then you'd be hurting folks all the same.”

Frodo admitted silently he had not considered this. Truly believing others would be hurt by something ill happening to him was difficult. He knew his cousins and friends cared greatly for him, but to value his safety above that of their own – to put themselves in danger for him... the thought frightened him, because in the end he knew it true, and he felt no matter the perspective of the situation, he was responsible for whatever pains would come to them.

Which left him at the impasse of bringing them pain for disallowing them to help him, or bringing pain inflicted on them when they went with him into danger.

As the mantle clock ticked away the seconds of the night, it occurred to him that 'disallowing' another to do as they would showed a dreadful lack of respect for their right to make their own decisions. He could advise them severely not to go, but if in the end they might end up injured by his fault one way or another... it was fair and just to let them decide how, not him. “I'm sorry for not having realized that before, Sam. If you still want to come, I welcome your company.”

“Aye, of course I do.”

Those words brought Frodo more relief than he could convey through anything but silent tears.

 

–

 

“Did you truly not believe me, when I said you were welcome?” Frodo asked, faintly amused as Sam prodded the hearth in Crickhollow.

“Nay, I did. T'is, only I thought you might not go taking all the rest of Gandalf's advice, like, to take others along as well.” A cheerful fire now crackled in Frodo's room, and looking about, Sam thought the place fair, and like enough to Bag End – but likely more comely in the daylight. “And of course, Mister Merry and Pippin worry about you too, Sir, and... well, as you've said, if they're wanting to put themselves to this for you, it's their choice, like.” Sam straightened, knotting his fingers as other additional statements came to mind, such as, 'I'm also afeared I can't protect you all on me own'.

“In the end, I think I shall be glad.” Frodo's smile was particularly beautiful in the firelight, and tired as it seemed, there was relief in it, too. “I am happy you all are coming; I would be much more afraid than I am now, if I were alone.”

Sam turned to look properly at Frodo, then, shifting from foot to foot. “You mean that, don't you? You ain't gonna run off come morning, alone?”

Frodo's expression sobered. “No, I promise. I won't leave you behind.”

Sam sniffled back tears. “I- I'm glad. I don't want you going off alone.” as he looked at Frodo, something in the air between them seemed to shift, and their gazes began to flicker back and forth, reading one another for any sign. “As it is, I don't want you to _be_ alone, Sir. Whether- whether we're on the Road or here in Crickhollow, like.”

Frodo took a step forward. “And- I would rather not be alone, especially if instead I may have you near. You're very generous and brave, Sam,” Frodo took one of Sam's hands between his own, “and you give me courage.”

“You is as the courageous one!” Sam was trembling, but he wasn't afraid of what was happening. “All I am is afeard; that you may get hurt- 'cause- I weren't enough to keep you safe.”

They were nose-to-nose, and looking into Frodo's eyes was like falling into the sky. “I'm afraid of the same for you. But I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you from harm.”

“Oh,” Sam breathed, “I swear the same of you, Si-” The last honorific Sam would ever use when he and Frodo were alone, was lost against Frodo's lips as they sealed their promises with a kiss.

Surrounded by a night full of unknown fears and Riders in black, and a perilous Quest ahead of them, it was miraculous the strength and comfort of heart such a simple touch could bring. They tilted their heads, pressing a little harder as Sam's hands came up to cup Frodo's cheeks, while Frodo's crept up Sam's chest, one settling over his heart.

When they opened their eyes as they parted, it was like waking to a dream. “Would you like to stay?” Frodo whispered, painfully aware that dawn would come much sooner than he wanted.

Sam nodded wordlessly, and Frodo led him to the bed. They curled up in a snug cocoon together, holding one another in this moment of peace while it still remained. “Thank you,” Frodo whispered.

“Thank _you_ ,” Sam replied, feeling his heart so full it was going to split open. He knew they would be waking to peril, yet he could not be all together afraid when he held his dearest dream in his arms.


End file.
